


Gino's East

by missdibley



Series: 38 Lifetimes [8]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: 38 lifetimes, 38 lifetimes fic, AU Tom Hiddleston - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Tom Hiddleston AU, red nose diaries, the red nose diaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 05:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17843099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: Carmen (still known as Enid) is seventeen, going on eighteen. Tom is fifteen, going on sixteen. There are mozzarella sticks, and a Discman. Welcome to the 90s.





	Gino's East

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Natural History Museum](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17347247) by [missdibley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley). 



“Stop doing that.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

Sarah Hiddleston re-capped her tube of Clinique Almost Lipstick (in Black Honey, of course), then glared across the table at her brother. She nodded at the wobbling tabletop, noting how the water splashed out of their very full glasses.

Tom smirked, then went back to fiddling with his Discman. “Not my fault the table sucks.”

“Daddy.” Sarah whined at her father, who was seated next to her. “Make him stop.”

James didn’t look up from the menu. He found comfort in studying the varieties of American-style pizzas after such a long day of keeping his two eldest children from killing each other. “Oh, they have a burger and fries pizza.” He wrinkled his nose, more in amusement than annoyance. “Charming.”

“Daddy!” Sarah insisted.

James set down the menu and regarded his oldest child. “How did Mum sound when you called earlier?”

Sarah smiled. “Like she missed me.”

“But not me?” Tom frowned.

“She wanted to know what I thought of the university.”

“Which one?” James asked. “Northwestern or…”

“The other,” Sarah replied. “The one Enid wants to go to.”

James nodded his approval. “I liked the one on the South Side, too.”

“Don’t see why we’re bothering,” Tom muttered. “I thought we were being made to go to Cambridge or Oxford.”

“Thomas, when I was your age, I would have loved to have been  _ made _ to attend either of those…” James began to say.

“Well, the economics program here is just so strong,” Sarah said wide-eyed. “All those Nobel laureates.”

“Sure. It’s the  _ professors _ that are the draw here,” Tom snorted. “Not the American boys.”

Sarah glared at Tom, but said nothing.

“Well, I for one am looking forward to seeing the DiGregorios again,” James sighed. “How long ago was it?”

“When we were in primary school,” Sarah reminded him. “Enid’s father was doing that one year course at the LSE.”

“I think it’s quite nice that you’ve kept up your friendship with Enid all this time.”

Sarah dug around in her purse, withdrawing an envelope that she waved in the air. “In her last letter, she said this was her favorite pizza parlor.”

“Can I see?” Tom asked, yawning to feign disinterest in the letters contents.

“She doesn’t say anything about you,” Sarah trilled. “Not  _ this _ time.”

“This time?” Tom’s voice cracked. “What did she say before?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?!”

“I think it’s my business,” Tom sputtered.

“It isn’t!” Sarah cried.

“But if she’s talking about me…” Tom protested. “I just don’t see what’s the big deal about her letters being private.”

“They’re not private,” Sarah said primly. “They’re just not for you.”

Tom pretended to lunge for the envelope, knocking the waters askew and spilling liquid across the vinyl tablecloth. Sarah squawked, flinging her arm in one direction to keep the letter away while she endeavored to kick him under the table. James merely pulled his chair out of the way and signaled for extra napkins. They weren’t much of a spectacle in the restaurant, which was full of families with small children and sunburnt Cubs fans drowning their sorrows in pitchers of Old Style after yet another loss. The walls and tables were covered in graffiti, and televisions played  _ The Blues Brothers _ .

Into this fray returned their harried waitress, bearing a platter of mozzarella sticks and a pitcher of root beer. James cleared a space for the food, and calmed when the children stopped their fighting to help themselves.

Tom had just bitten into a piping hot morsel of fried cheese when Sarah leapt up and shrieked.

“Enid!” Sarah, normally so composed and annoyingly perfect, rounded the table and engulfed someone in a hug.

James’s got to his feet and joined her. He towered over Pilar and Martin DiGregorio, who were quite striking with their matching salt and pepper hair, oversized glasses, and light-colored outfits.

Martin pumped James’s hand enthusiastically. “James! Welcome to the Windy City.” He smiled as James leaned down to accept a peck on the cheek from his wife.

The adults made niceties while Sarah and Enid laughed and hugged, and laughed again. Nobody seemed to notice Tom who, just like the first time, was frozen in place as soon as he saw her.

When she was 5, Enid had been adorable. Ruddy cheeks and merry brown eyes and tumbling black curls. At 17, she was, to Tom anyway, ravishing. The ruddy cheeks were not as around but her skin looked soft. The brown eyes looked mischievous, and the tumbling black curls were interspersed with streaks of bright red. When Sarah pulled a crimson lock to inspect it closely, Pilar clucked her tongue.

“Ugh, my daughter fancies herself a bohemian,” Pilar groaned.

Martin simply chuckled. “She takes after my mother, I think.”

“Daddy, can I…” Sarah began, but was cut off when James raised his hands.

“Take it up with your mum when we get home.”

“But that’s not until next week!” Sarah cried.

“And I could do it real easy tonight at the hotel, Dr. Hiddleston.” Enid explained. “It’ll wash out before school starts.”

Tom started when he heard Enid’s voice. He hadn’t heard it except in crackly fits over the years when Sarah was given very special permission to make a long distance call to Enid for their birthdays or the Christmas holidays.

James grinned. “It sounds like you’ve got it all sorted.”

Enid’s lips twisted, not wickedly but like she knew she was on the verge of getting her way. Tom thought it looked familiar, for his own little sister Emma (stuck at riding camp in England) often used it on their mother. He laughed, almost to himself, but Enid caught it.

She looked at him, meeting his eyes directly. Her nose twitched, and when it did, Tom’s stomach flipped and flopped and then it flipped again. He felt warmth creep up from his chest to his neck and then his face felt like it was on fire. Tom realized too late that he still had a mouthful of mozzarella that he hadn’t yet swallowed.

“Hey,” Enid said to him. She nodded at him. “What’s that you got there?”

Tom finally swallowed. “Erm…” He held up his right hand. “I have a mozzarella stick.”

Enid’s brow furrowed as Sarah burst out cackling. “No… I meant…”

_ Oh god, _ Tom panicked. He looked at his other hand. “It’s a Discman. Yeah. Have you heard of them? Here? In America?”

“Um, yes.” Enid shrugged. “What are you listening to?”

“Music?” Tom asked.

“Yes, but…” She approached him, came closer, and took his hand to examine the player. “Do you mind?” She took it from him, pried it open, and gave the CD inside a peek.

As she tilted her head, glossy ebony curls tumbled over her neck, and Tom thought he smelled orange blossoms wafting up from her shoulders. It blended in with the smell of tomato sauce and cheese and chicken wings and if Enid was an angel then clearly upstairs at Gino’s East on a sticky summer night in 1996 was heaven.


End file.
